


Invisible Murder BFFs

by kabrox18



Series: IMBD [2]
Category: Crysis Series (Video Games), Red vs. Blue
Genre: IMBD AU, Implied Noncon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8037496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: More Locus/Prophet. I'll continue this all the way through this arc if it's the last thing I do, dammit.





	1. Chapter 1

Locus headed to the showers, feeling sticky and gross after a thorough series of sparring matches with a few trainees. Laurence had volunteered to help, taking up another mat to help get the newbies into shape.

Of course, he took it easy on them, but it was less him “going easy” and more he was distracted by Locus. At one point later in the training period, he’d inhaled to ready himself for an attack and was immediately focused on Locus, the scent of him and his sweat driving Laurence insane. He vowed to himself to get his hands on the mercenary after the training, silently cursing him for being so distracting.

That, of course, was why he was trailing the man to the showers, ogling his thighs and ass openly.

“Hot daaaamn,” he muttered to himself, feeling his mouth water at the sight. What remained of Alcatraz was screaming like his life depended on it, demanding that Laurence “tap that shit _NOW_ ” and “BEND HIM OVER SOMETHING AND FUCK HIM RAW” in very demanding tones for someone who was not only dead, but fused with an AI and trapped in another dead person’s body. Laurence mostly tuned him out, but this time decided to appease both his already half-there arousal and the pissy AI-hybrid. He hung back, stewing and waiting impatiently for the pretty merc to get in a stall. He then went in, grinning and pinning him to the shower wall, earning a gasp and a glare.

“Laurence! What the hell are you doing in here?!” The supersoldier ignored the question, shoving Locus up into the tiles a little harder, growling lowly in approval when the anger on the smaller man’s face flickered.

“Do you know how fucking distracting you were?” Locus’s pretty green eyes got huge at the hissing double-tone. That meant one of two things: either Laurence was sharing vocal power with Alcatraz, or the Alpha had taken over again. Thankfully it was the former; the Alpha Ceph wouldn’t run it’s teeth over Locus’s neck, sucking and leaving dark, obvious marks. It also wouldn’t bother to grind into the merc’s ass roughly, hissing and purring in pleasure while sniffing at the thick scent clinging to his skin.

“Laurence please…” He managed to whimper, which just seemed to fan the fires; the bigger man backed off to unclasp his codpiece and drop it carelessly, only to press back stiflingly close, erection grinding roughly into Locus.

“I lost. Every, damn, time. And do you know why?” The double-synthesized voice pressed right against his ear, teeth and metal lips brushing the flesh lightly.

“W-why?”

“Because you had to be over there flaunting your body and smelling like you do. Fuck you. I’m going to, actually.” He laughed, groping the merc eagerly. Locus struggled a little, grabbing his hands roughly.

“No. You are being too rough.” Laurence deflated, backing away and sulking before he picked up his codpiece and left, still dripping wet.

\------

 _Crunch. Crunch. Crrrruuunch._ Laurence scowled and peeled his head away from the wall.

 _Fucking titanium skull._ He couldn’t let go of how he’d messed up big time and how Locus would deprive him of his craving for weeks or worse, months.

“It’s bullshit!” He snarled, hating this whole thing. The situation, how he screwed up, how Locus would enforce the “hands off” policy over one damn mistake. He tugged aggressively at the cuffs resting in the small of his back, screaming more in frustration. He felt considerably better after, and elected to ignore the stink of new blood dripping from his wrists, the edges of the metal digging in hard enough to cut from his rough yanking. He paced the length of his room several times, scowling and being overall pissy. He didn’t look at Locus when he came in, seeming almost surprised at the hole in the wall, drywall and metal plates dented and scattered over the ground.

“Laurence? Everything alright?”

“Get out.” That caught the mercenary off guard and Laurence bared his teeth, hissing and squaring his shoulders. He was all bark and no bite however, obeying when Locus told him to turn around.

“You’re bleeding.” There were feather-light touches along the edges of the open, oozing wounds.

“If I cared I would’ve done something about it. I don’t give a shit if I bleed everywhere.”

“Laurence!” The bigger man turned, almost exploding.

“I don’t feel pain! Blood isn’t necessary and even if it was, this damn suit would just make more! Besides, why would you care _anyway?_ You wonder why I treat myself like shit all the time, and why I chase after you like a starving animal, but then you cuff me up and stick me where I can’t get any relief from anything. On top of that you expect me to just show my belly like some piece of shit slave?! NO! Now get _OUT!”_ Locus stood there, looking like he was stuck in stone, and Laurence turned away again, going to sit in the corner and try not to make another hole in the wall.

“Laurence, I-”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re sorry. I said get out and I meant it, before I gut you alive.” The threat was only half serious, but neither cared.

“Let me talk you suited fuck.” Laurence looked over his shoulder, back at Locus.

“And why the hell would I want to listen to you?”

“Because I’m not going to apologize. It’s just words, doesn’t fix shit. Stand up and come here.” The big man stayed there for a moment before getting up, going to the mercenary, who stepped behind him and undid the cuffs.

“Come here.” He tugged the supersoldier into another room by the shoulder, getting a medkit off the shelf and opening it.

“You’re right. Punishing you over one mistake was wrong. But, you should know better.” Laurence opened his mouth, Locus holding up a hand.

“I’m not going to go to this extreme anymore. You better actually try to behave, though. This ‘doesn’t care about anything’ attitude isn’t gonna fly. Got it?” Locus looked up, eyes meeting Laurence’s visor as he applied some painkilling gel and bandages to the long cuts all around his wrists.

“Fine. But you owe me, you asshole bug.” Locus nodded, deciding not to comment on the noticeable tone of vague affection, finishing up with the bigger man’s wrists and cutting the bandages.

“Tonight. Showers. Don’t fuck this up again.” He pointed up at the metal and carbon face, packing up the kit before turning on his heel and leaving.

\------

Laurence loitered around the showers, wondering if he should just drop the offer and go back to his room.

“At least my hand doesn’t get pissy if I get grabby,” He muttered to himself, scuffing his boot at the ugly barf-green tiles on the floor. He didn’t look up at the sound of footsteps, instead continuing to glower at the ground.

“Are you going to come or are you going to be a brat and back down?” The question was met with a halfhearted “go to hell”, and Locus rolled his eyes.

“Come on, maybe I’ll let you do me against the lockers.” It was Laurence’s absolute favorite, but it roused no reaction out of him.

“I’m tired,” he grumbled, turning away.

“Don’t you dare chicken out. Get in here.”

“I’m going to sleep. You can do like me and jack one off if you’re that desperate.”

“Laurence Barnes, you turn around right now before I make you.” Locus inwardly smirked at how the big man flinched a little at the sound of his full name. He obeyed, looking like a kid who got caught eating sweets when they weren’t allowed.

“You’re being frumpy. I know you still want me, I’m not stupid. Now get in there already. My ass isn’t going to be this perky forever.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~timeskip stuff~

Locus opened his weapon case only to find it empty. A scowl crossed his face under the helmet and he closed it, heading outside to climb up the cliffs to the ridgeline to find the one who stole it. He was sitting there, not even bothering to cloak. He’d been picking fights lately, pushing at everyone’s patience. Already he’d taken down two pirates who got cocky and decided they could take him on and win. Locus wasn’t going to fight him; he may have far better skills and armor than the snotty young pirates but he also had common sense not to fight Prophet, of all people. He’d been given an experimental suit, one that had twisted the once kind-hearted man into the monster he was now.

Locus made his way along the rock face toward him.

“Can you stop stealing my rifle?”

“I like it.”

“You just like spying on Felix.”

“I like spying on everyone.”

“I need it for a mission. I’d like it back.”

“You’re just saying that because I stole it and you want it back. You don’t really need it.” Locus grit his teeth in irritation, this is always how these pointless arguments ended up going.

“I do need it for a mission. One that you’re coming with me on, remember? I told Doyle you’d talk to him today.”

Prophet made a noise in the back of his throat, a ceph sort of noise. Hollow and mechanical.

“ _ Tch _ . He’s an idiot.”

“Maybe, but we need his cooperation to keep our plan in the running.”

“Fine. Here. Don’t know why you’d need a damn sniper rifle for a peaceful meeting, especially with him.” Prophet slung the rifle at Locus, annoyed that he was being forced to talk with Doyle. He was already walking away as Locus caught the rifle, turning to watch him slink off.

\------

Doyle was ushering away a soldier just as the two entered, Prophet having to walk in at an angle thanks to his wide shoulders and the narrow doorway. The general turned and made a small noise, a hand jumping to touch his chest.

“Dearie me, you startled me! I wonder how it is that such big people move so quietly.” He gave a small, nervous chuckle and Prophet glared a little. Already Doyle was grating his nerves with his accent and how anxious he was all the time. Locus brushed their elbows together, glancing to him and saying silently to ease up. Prophet let out an annoyed huff but relaxed, watching Doyle and wondering to himself if he could infect the wimpy general with the hivemind. Ceph Calamari, anyone?

“You wanted to talk with Prophet, yes? About his… Abilities.” Locus seemed to hesitate on the word “abilities”.

“I did indeed. If he doesn’t mind, I’d like to walk and talk. This area is rather claustrophobic with all the traffic.” Locus simply nodded, helmet bobbing slightly.

“I’ll let you have privacy. I’m going to wait in that rented room you loaned me, General.”

“Oh certainly! I hope you enjoy your stay.” Locus quietly left, leaving Doyle and Prophet. Locus grinned under his helmet at the feeling of Prophet glaring at him as he left.

\------

Prophet had been trying his absolute damnedest to infect the general, and he could feel the bridge forming and growing. Touches, bumps, everything to get as many nanomachines on and into his armor as possible. Soon he’d be just as mindless as a couple of the pirates he’d managed to win over, and that excited him. He’d be able to make Doyle shut up at any time. Unfortunately their talk was cut off and Locus was bringing Prophet along so they could leave. Locus had dragged him off as soon as possible, noticing how distant Doyle was getting. He couldn’t allow Prophet to get in Doyle’s head or they could be potentially screwed.

“Why’d you yank me off like that?” Locus ignored the annoyance in his voice, getting him all the way home and ignoring him.

Prophet hated every second of it.

\------

As soon as they were back, Locus headed into the armory. Prophet followed closely and waited until the door closed before going to Locus.

“I want answers.”

“You aren’t getting any.” That was the last nerve, Prophet had been steaming the whole ride back, and had a big axe to grind.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Locus bit his lip, that tone was dangerous. It was the sound of Prophet about to kick his ass, too. Sure enough, in no seconds flat, Locus was pinned to the lockers, Prophet  _ right there _ in his face.

“I don’t think I should have to repeat myself, Locus.”

“Neither should I,  _ Prophet _ .” He couldn’t help but grin at the brief look of bewilderment that crossed the other’s face; nobody had ever had the balls to talk to him like  _ that _ . He regretted it immediately however when Prophet slammed him into the ground, planting a foot on him to keep him pinned.

“You want to fight? We can fight. I’ll happily oblige you.” Locus struggled, and surprisingly he was let up. He turned around to look at Prophet only to have his helmet ripped off his head and slammed over his head like a bludgeon. He toppled onto his back and tried to blink and focus his now doubling vision. He could feel himself getting roughly lifted, Prophet manhandling him and slamming him into the lockers. Locus shook away the dizziness finally and threw a punch, an uppercut that sent Prophet back a couple steps. Locus quickly peeled himself off the lockers and hit him again, staring in horror as his fist hit the glowing blue of armor mode. Prophet looked down at the fist still pressed to his chest, then looked up to Locus with a savage grin. Locus immediately ducked a swing, twisting out from under him and grabbing the bigger man from behind. He used all the strength in both himself and his armor to lift Prophet over his head and sling him headfirst into a wall. Prophet howled and got to his feet, cradling his face and shooting Locus a killer glare. His little flat silvery nose was leaking a thick black fluid from the three holes. Locus looked stunned and stared at the blood dripping down Prophet’s mouth and jaw.

“You piece of shit…” Locus ducked one swing but a second connected, Prophet’s huge fist meeting his face. He could feel his own blood dripping out of his nose heavily, the deep red leaving drips on the floor and his armor. He also noted that he could feel the huge black eye he was bound to have at this point. Point-blank encounters with a battering ram of metal and nanofiber cables going roughly 50 mph didn’t exactly agree with his flesh. He groaned feebly and gingerly touched the swollen bruise. This wasn’t good. Felix would skin the both of them, and that would not be fun at all. He could see Prophet getting closer and went on guard, but wasn’t met with more punches; instead, he felt Prophet push him up into the locker. 

“What are you-mmph!”

Prophet’s mouth was on his, the taste of blood thick and stifling. He could feel the thick tongue slide into his mouth and curl a bit, hitting that one damned spot that made Locus’s knees go weak. He couldn’t help the moan that slipped out, and Prophet’s hands went from pinning his wrists to the lockers on either side of them to sliding their way down his sides, settling onto his hips and giving them a light squeeze. Locus ran his hands up the thick corded arms and grabbed the back of Prophet’s head, pulling the aggressive alien hybrid closer, needing more of the sharp bitter taste of his black blood. Prophet kneed his legs apart and pressed their hips together, growling lowly in approval as their bodies grew closer. Locus shivered at the vibrations of the growl, breaking away only after his head started to spin from the lack of air. He smiled to himself as Prophet held him gently, hands gently rubbing at his hips.

For a first fight, it had certainly ended up rather nicely.


End file.
